


Gratitude

by icylangdon



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse
Genre: Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, F/M, Face-Sitting, Femdom, Hair-pulling, Light Bondage, Pegging, Spanking, Strap-Ons, Submissive Michael, Vaginal Sex, Verbal Humiliation, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 11:00:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17282825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icylangdon/pseuds/icylangdon
Summary: michael langdon tries his best to be good, but sometimes he just needs to be disciplined.(a two-part series)





	1. Gratitude

“Please, (y/n).”

You rolled your eyes, focused on the TV while the blond haired boy fidgeted next to you on the couch.

“What?” you said, tone impatient as you fixed your gaze on the screen, refusing to look over. Of course, the show wasn’t nearly as interesting as you were letting on; you were just waiting to see how long it would be until Michael completely lost control.

“I’m- I can’t stop thinking about earlier.”

“What happened earlier?” you asked, stifling a devilish smirk as you feigned ignorance.

“When you touched me. And you didn’t let me, you know.”

He sounded so worked up and desperate that you almost felt sorry for him- almost. You knew he loved it, though, when you denied and teased him, made him beg. He craved it, to be under your control.

“What do you mean? You were practically begging on your hands and knees for me to touch you, so I touched you.”

He licked his lips, shifting his body so he was sitting cross legged. He looked so innocent right now, a mop of messy blond hair falling in front of his widened eyes, hands toying with the sleeves of his slightly-too-big sweater. “Yeah, but- but you didn’t let me come.”

He pouted at you, and finally you turned to face him. Cupping his face with one hand, you leaned in close to him. He looked anxious, almost afraid, but there was a distant flicker of something else in his pale blue eyes.

“You asked me to touch you, Michael,” you said sternly, taking your other hand and stroking his hair tenderly. “And I gave you what you wanted. You’re being very ungrateful right now.”

He only looked at you, bottom lip quivering as he blinked back tears. “Please,” he said, voice hardly louder than a whisper.

You pretended to stroke his hair again before tugging it back sharply, resulting in a pained gasp from his mouth. You raised yourself slightly on the couch to look down at him, enjoying the way he looked at you, so eager to be yours. He looked so sweet right now, so needy. You wanted to kiss him gently and coo to him that everything would be okay. But you wouldn’t.

“I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m just. I need to come. It hurts how bad I want you, I-”

You interrupted him by yanking his hair again, and he cried out.

“Clearly I haven’t taught you well enough if you’re complaining like this. I think I’m going to have to discipline you.”

He let out a whine that sounded vaguely like a moan, and you let go of his hair. “Now get up. You’re finally going to get what you’ve been begging for.”

He did as he was told, and you picked up the remote control off the coffee table and turned off the TV. Then you made your way to the staircase leading to his bedroom, ushering him to go before you. He hung his head in shame as he ascended the stairs, hands in his pockets, and you followed hot on his heels.

In his bedroom, you shut the door and locked it, even though you both had the house to yourselves- Constance was out fucking some guy, leaving Michael alone as usual. You looked at him, and he seemed so small despite the fact that he towered above you in height. You could see in his eyes and slouched posture that he was truly ashamed of himself; you licked your lips.

“Take off your clothes,” you told him. Immediately he did, muttering a barely audible yes, ma’am before pulling his shirt off over his head and dropping it to the ground. Next he began to fumble with his belt, and you held out your hand.

“Hand me your belt.” His face flushed, knowing exactly what you intended to do with it. The bulge in his pants expanded and he slid it out of the loops, placing it gently into your palm. He continued stripping as you ran your fingers along the leather, leveling it in your hands, imagining the adorable squeals that would be escaping his lips as you punished him. As much as you hated to see him in pain, it turned you on to see him squirm and writhe as he submitted to your every command.

He worked off his jeans and then his boxers, and you could see how hard his cock was, brushing against his stomach. Your mouth almost watered at the sight.

“Does this arouse you? Knowing you’re going to be punished?” You didn’t need to ask, but you wanted to see his reaction, make him feel humiliated. He nodded sheepishly, intentionally allowing his hair to fall forward and shield his eyes.

“Pathetic little boy,” you said, reaching forward to teasingly run your fingers along his length. He tensed, a low groan leaving his mouth, and you drew your hand back. “Begging like a child, instead of thanking me for touching you at all.”

You pointed to his bed. “All fours. Now.”

He obeyed, climbing onto his blue sheets and positioning himself so he was facing the wall, his perfect ass presented to you. You admired his frame momentarily, slender yet sculpted, his arm muscles flexing as he held himself up. The backs of his thighs and his ass still were marked with red lines from previous times he’d misbehaved; it was fucking mesmerizing, observing the way you’d branded him.

“Tell me why you’re being punished,” you said, folding the belt in your hand and dragging the cool leather along the sensitive skin at the tops of his thighs. His breath hitched and you reached forward, tugging his hair back. “Tell me.”

“I-I was ungrateful, and I was b-begging and I-“ you hit him hard with the belt, the noise of it cracking against his porcelain skin loud and satisfying. He yelped.

“And do you think you deserve to have me touch your cock? To make you come?” You hit him again and he surged forward slightly. You wished you could see his face head-on.

“N-no,” he whimpered.

You reached between his legs and pulled lightly at him, stroking the skin at an agonizingly slow pace. He hissed and you continued to touch him, one hand gently rubbing the belt’s mark. “You don’t deserve this, do you? You know you don’t, and yet you love it. You crave it.”

He shook his head, his body shuddering as you caressed his length. You, of course, had no intention to grant him his much-desired release. Not yet, anyway.

“Tell me, Michael,” you said, removing your hand from his cock before circling around to where you could see his beautiful face. His eyes were shut, but opened slowly as you carefully coaxed his head up to face you, two fingers neatly placed beneath his chin. “Do you think I should continue to punish you, and ignore your aching cock? Or would you prefer if I made you cum?”

You grinned wickedly, knowing that he would choose the former option despite his own desires. He was so submissive, so completely willing to give himself to you. You owned him, and that’s what he needed, to have someone to which he belonged, to be claimed.

“You should punish me,” he said quietly, pale eyes glossy with unspilled tears as he met your gaze. “It’s what I deserve.”

You smirked, patting his head like he was an obedient dog, and moved back to the end of the bed. “Count them,” you ordered and began hitting him at a steady pace, gradually increasing the intensity. He choked out each number, his arms beginning to give out, and eventually he tucked them under him and laid his head down on the bed, keeping his ass in the air for you.

By the time you decided you were finished with him, his cheeks were covered in a fresh set of marks, angry welts already beginning to appear. You admired your handiwork, tracing the painful-looking stripes with your fingertips. He swallowed loudly, and you could tell he was holding back a sob; your heart ached, but when you noticed the precum dribbling from the head of his dick, you felt a bit better knowing that he was enjoying it.

You put the belt off to the side, ignoring your gnawing urge to drop the ruthless act and embrace him. “Did you learn your lesson?”

He sniffled. “Yes, ma’am.” His voice was muffled by the mattress, which he’d pressed his face into.

“Roll over,” you told him, and he did; his lips were swollen, eyes puffy, and dried tears clung to his face and shone dully in the light. There were dark spots on the sheets from where his face had been, further evidence of his tears. Sweaty strands of golden hair stuck to his face and he looked at you, eyes filled with humiliation and remorse.

You wavered; your face fell as you regarded his current state of being, eyebrows knitting together with sympathy. This lapse only lasted momentarily, though, and within seconds, you’d returned to your stoic facade.

You walked over to his dresser and opened the top drawer, which you knew held the silk rope you’d use during times like this. There were also handcuffs, but you thought you’d grant him a small shred of mercy, knowing the way his wrists would bruise whenever you used them on him. You didn’t think you’d be able to stand seeing him in any more pain, no matter how much he enjoyed it.

You presented him with the rope and he instinctively held his hands above his head, touching the headboard. “Good boy,” you praised, and he beamed, clearly proud of himself for having pleased you. Having done this several times before, you quickly bound his wrists to the headboard, making sure the knots were tight so he was given very limited mobility. 

Then you reached under your skirt and slid off your damp underwear, not bothering to undress the rest of the way. You supposed this could be part of his punishment, not being able to view your body, which you knew he wholeheartedly worshiped. 

You reached over to his erection and rubbed your thumb over the head, feeling the slick moisture that had started to drool from it. You were almost compelled to finish him right there, give him what he wanted, but you decided you’d hold off for a little longer. The buildup would result in a better orgasm for him anyway. He bucked his hips upwards and you calmly brought your hand to your side, shaking your head disapprovingly.

“No,” you chided. “You will stay still and do only what I tell you to do, is that understood?”

“Y-yes,” he said, voice cracking. You climbed onto the bed and knelt on either side of his torso, brushing away the strands of hair that obscured his face. His forehead shone with sweat and you wiped it away along with his tears, bringing yourself down so you felt his hot skin against your core. 

You were sure he could feel your wetness as you began grinding yourself against his upper stomach, biting your bottom lip harshly as he shivered beneath you. You wrapped your fingers loosely around his throat, keeping his head in place to watch you as you pleasured yourself with his body.

You were sure you could reach an orgasm just by doing this alone, studying the features that made up his gorgeous face. But you wouldn’t, especially not after seeing those swollen lips of his, red and glossy and parted. You were going to make sure he really worked for his release, returning to a straddling position and pulling up your skirt to show yourself to him.

“If you do a good job, I might let you come,” you said, smiling inwardly when you saw his eyes light up. He loved to make you feel good, so being able to taste you was an award in itself for him. Sometimes he’d go down on you for hours, making you come again and again and again, your hands tangled up in his soft hair. He lived to see you satisfied. 

You moved up until you were above his face, his breath hot on your inner thighs. Then you lowered yourself down onto his face, the fabric of your skirt bunched up in one fist while your other hand rested against the headboard. He craned his head upwards and you gasped as his tongue traveled up your slit, too aroused to scold him for moving without your permission.

You settled yourself down on his face and immediately he got to work, lapping at you desperately as if you were his last fucking meal. He moaned at the taste of you, sending vibrations through your core as you tilted your head back towards the ceiling, rocking your hips against him mercilessly.

His mouth found your clit and you stilled yourself, allowing him to suck hard on the bud. “God,” you muttered, unable to commend his ever-improving skills, your body tightening as he inflicted waves of sinful bliss upon you. You lifted yourself up, letting him catch his breath briefly before you impatiently settled yourself back down. 

He swirled his tongue between your folds, proceeding to slide it along your entrance, dipping it inside and gratefully savoring your flavor. You began to ride his face, knowing he could handle this, knowing he was loving this. He returned his focus to your aching bundle of nerves, licking it greedily and nearly causing you to scream.

“Fuck, Michael,” you cried, nails scraping at the wooden headboard, neck rolling back. He was so fucking good, so perfect, able to bring you to your climax without his hands. He knew your body inside and out, knew just how to make you lose your mind. He licked down your center one final time before pressing hard against your clit with his tongue and you came, your juices flowing effortlessly over his face and into his ready mouth. 

“Good boy,” you breathed, moving off his face as he gulped in a needed breath. He ran his tongue over his top lip, eyes clouded over with lust as he blinked up at you innocently.

“Thank you for letting me taste you,” he said, and you lovingly stroked his jaw. 

You scooted yourself down despite your legs being weak beneath you, and grasped his massive, solid length in your hand. You dragged it along your entrance, indulging in his needy whines before sliding it into you, your jaw unhinging as you engulfed him completely.

He groaned, your hips rolling roughly against his, not bothering to start slow. Sure, you could’ve teased him more, made him beg, but you wanted him now. You began to bounce on him, a bead of sweat traveling down your forehead, your breaths becoming shorter and harder. 

“(Y/n),” he called, chest heaving and dripping with sweat. You held his hips, impaling yourself with him even harder, profanities escaping you when you felt him hit your innermost walls. You knew he wouldn’t be able to take much more; he’d already been worked up to begin with, and now you were riding him like your life depended on it.

Reaching forward, you gripped his throat, telling him harshly to look at you, practically slamming yourself down against him. You’d probably be sore after this, but it was well worth it. 

“I’m- I-” he said, your fingers circling your clit as you watched him stare up at you with pleading eyes. “(Y/n), I have to-” he stopped to correct himself, gulping noisily-”(Y/n), may I please cum?”

“Yes, baby,” you said, kissing his lips tenderly, tasting yourself on him. “You deserve it.”

“Thank you,” he whispered as you took one hand from his neck and used it to stroke his angelic face.

You continued to fuck yourself on him, making sure he could really feel your clenching walls, fingers still working sloppily at your clit. He let out a sob and then he came, finally, his warm load filling you up.

This alone was enough to send you over the edge, flicking at your sensitive bud. Your stomach dropped and you orgasmed for a second time, your body prickling with heat as the intoxicating sensation of ecstasy took its hold on you. Once you’d finished riding the waves of pleasure, your heart hammering in your chest, you got off of him, his cum leaking crudely down your inner thigh as you untied his restraints. 

“I love you, Michael,” you said, wrapping your arms around his torso and pulling him close; he didn’t have to reply for you to know the feeling was mutual.


	2. Gratitude (part two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> michael langdon, boy wonder, has newfound confidence and power after going away to the hawthorne school. that doesn’t mean that he’s exempt from discipline, though, and it looks like he’s in need of some.
> 
> includes: pegging. lmfao

“You know, Michael,” you said, your hands traveling up his dress shirt as you slid each button into its hold, “as much as I hate not having you around, it’s partly worth it just to see you in this outfit.”

He chuckled, straightening his neck for you as you tied the thin black ribbon into a neat bow and folded his collar down. “You like it?” he asked hopefully, widening his eyes half-seriously.

“Are you kidding? I love it,” you said, reaching up to adjust his hair so it framed his face the way he liked.

You hadn’t seen Michael since he’d gone away to the Hawthorne school a month ago; you were beyond proud of him for being as skilled as he was, but it had gotten so lonely no longer having your blond-haired boyfriend at an arm’s length from you. Being here with him now, you felt whole. He was your other half, and it killed you to be away from him.

“Though, I have to say, it’d probably look a lot better on the floor,” you said, your voice lowering as you slid your hands across his waist and pulled him close to you. You looked up at him, craning your neck to whisper into his ear: “Have you been a good boy this past month?”

He nodded, cheeks flushing. He’d changed drastically from the shy, sweet boy he’d once been, but certain things about him had remained the same. Even though he was powerful now and confident in his demeanor, he still loved nothing more than to be completely under your control. 

“Good,” you whispered, enjoying the way his breath hitched in response to your close proximity. “Then I’ll have to reward you later.”

There was a flurry of noise from behind his bedroom door, followed by the sound of someone’s knuckles impatiently rapping against it. “Langdon, dude, come on. We’re all going to get dinner now.”

He looked in the direction of the noise, a disinterested look on his face. “Go on,” you said. “I’ll meet you there. I’m not finished getting ready yet.”

“I’d rather stay here with you,” he mumbled, pressing his lips against your jaw. There was more knocking at the door, which you both did not react to.

“I’m gonna be a while. I was driving all day to come see you, I look a mess.” You put your finger up to his mouth, preventing him from offering the obligatory No, you don’t that boyfriends were expected to give. “I already ate dinner. I’m just gonna come down to say hi to your friends.”

He nodded, kissing you softly before turning to the door. “Be right out,” he called.

“His girlfriend is visiting him,” came a second muffled voice. “His dick is probably being sucked as we speak.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, and he cleared his throat. “I can hear you, you know.”

There was a chorus of laughter from the group of boys behind the door, and you rolled your eyes. “Go on, have fun,” you said, pushing him lightly in the direction of the door. He looked over his shoulder at you with a grin, and then he was off. You shook your head, listening to the boisterous voices of his friends, almost feeling like a disapproving mother dropping her son off with his bad-influence friends. This is normal, you thought, albeit sadly, unable to shake the inkling of worry you harbored that he’d forget about you.

Of course he wouldn’t forget about you. He loved you. He owned you, even, just as much as you owned him. You took in a breath and sat down on the side of his bed, rummaging through your makeup bag. It’d been so much easier when it had only been the two of you, but you had to let him experience his life. He needed it. He deserved it, more than anyone else.

But still, you worried.

//

“Dude, is that from your girlfriend? That shit’s fuckin’ humongous,” you heard a faceless warlock say as you walked through the dining hall. From a few other boys came a murmur of agreement, and you wondered what they were talking about as you scanned the tables for Michael.

You heard a cocky-sounding laugh, and a familiar one at that. All at once, you realized what was going on: Michael was sitting with his back to you, but you could tell he was tilting his head to one side in order to show off the reddish-purple welt on his neck while his friends stared in awe. “Oh, this? Well, yeah. I mean, she couldn’t keep her hands off me. You know how needy girls can get.”

You stopped in your tracks. Fucking idiot, you thought, folding your arms in front of you in wait of what else he might say. “Damn. She must have been really going at it,” laughed a dark-haired boy, leaning in to get a better look at the mark.

Michael shrugged nonchalantly, and from the bit of his profile you could see, you could tell there was a smirk on his lips. “I had to tell her, you know, ‘my friends and I wanna get dinner, and we’ll have plenty of time later to-‘“

You decided this was the perfect time to interrupt, approaching behind Michael and placing your hands on his shoulders, demanding the attention of the entire group.

“Are you guys talking about that mark on Michael’s neck? Yeah, it’s pretty crazy. He was really curious about seeing what he’d look like with straight hair, so he borrowed my straightener and accidentally burnt the shit out of himself.” You weren’t even lying, either, which made him all the more pathetic for gloating to his friends.

Michael looked up at you with a close-mouthed grin, and you were satisfied to see the panic behind his pale eyes. “There you are, baby,” he said, his voice cracking nervously. “I was wondering what was taking so long. Guys, this is (y/n).”

One warlock snorted, his eyes traveling back and forth between you and Michael as he regarded your expressions. “So, like, did you actually get that mark from a hair straightener?”

Michael’s shoulders slumped, your hands still perched on them, and you gave him a hard squeeze. You didn’t need to see his face to know that he was burning up. Good, you thought. He should be fucking embarrassed. “What else would it be from?” you said brightly, staring down the warlock who sat next to Michael until he scooted over.

You slid in next to your boyfriend, immediately gripping his thigh beneath the table; your nails sank into his skin through his dress pants, causing him to wince. “Sorry,” you said, leaning an elbows on the table and settling your chin on your palm. “I just couldn’t keep my hands off you, I guess.”

The look he gave you showed you enough; he knew he was fucked. And soon enough, he would be- you could guarantee that.

//

“What the fuck was that about?” you demanded, not bothering to wait for Michael to shut his bedroom door behind him. He looked at you sheepishly, hands in his pockets.

“I’m sorry, (y/n). I just- you know how guys are, right? I just want them to like me.”

“Save it,” you snapped, reaching for your bag which sat on his bed. “Get on your fucking knees. You wanna use your mouth so bad? Then I’ll make sure you do.”

He sank to his knees immediately, pulling off his jacket and discarding it behind him, an eager smirk on his lips as he looked up at you. “Is this supposed to be a punishment? You know how much I love to taste you.”

You laughed humorlessly, taking his chin in your hand and harshly turning it upwards. “Oh, believe me, Michael. You aren’t tasting me tonight.”

Before he could respond, you took your bag into the bathroom, leaving him kneeling on the wood. You hadn’t planned to punish him tonight, but his behavior certainly warranted it. As pissed off as you were at him for having been so completely idiotic, the thought of having him beg and plead excited you, to say the least. You rummaged through your bag in search of the surprise you’d brought for Michael, your underwear dampening in anticipation.

When you found your strap-on, you smiled deviously to yourself. You’d used it on Michael before, but he didn’t know that you’d brought it with you to visit him, and you couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when you presented it before him. Hiking up your skirt and pulling off your underwear, you put it on, running your fingertips along the length. 

You always felt sort of powerful when you wore it, especially when you had Michael on his knees in front of you. You pulled your skirt back down and walked back into Michael’s room, finding him in the same spot you’d left him.

You looked at him and scoffed; he was noticeably hard through his expensive pants, his lips parted and eager. Slowly you made your way over to him, stopping once your crotch was in front of his face. Then you grabbed a fist full of golden curls and yanked his head back to look at you, drawing a soft yelp from his mouth.

“Open your mouth,” you ordered, and immediately he did as he was told. “And keep your hands on your knees. You don’t get to touch me.”

He watched as you pulled up your skirt, hands fidgeting restlessly over his thighs as you revealed the thick length of the strap-on. His eyes widened, but you didn’t allow him to question you- you forced the fake cock into his mouth, making him gag, your fists tightly grasping his hair. 

He let out a strangled choking sound as you forced it to the back of his throat, your grip tight enough to keep him in place. “What do you think your little warlock friends would think if they saw this, huh? Their strong boy wonder choking on his girlfriend’s fake cock.”

He moaned, and you knew he was loving this. You pulled his head back and thrusted your hips forward, finding a steady rhythm to fuck his face. Even though you weren’t being touched, you almost moaned yourself, just by witnessing Michael in this state of submission. “You think they’d still think you were a big man if they saw this? Huh?”

You tugged his hair and he shook his head as best he could, saliva dribbling down his chin and onto the front of his shirt. He’d balled his fists up over his legs, struggling not to reach out and touch you, but you refrained from praising him- he didn’t deserve it. 

“You’re taking my cock so well,” you mumbled, licking your lips at the vulgar noises coming from your boyfriend’s throat. Glancing down, you could see that his eyes were shut as he immersed himself in the degrading act. “Look at me,” you demanded, and his eyes snapped open, darkened with lust.

“You want me to fuck you?” you asked him, slowing down the thrusts to watch him slide his head up and down the length. He nodded, and you pulled the cock out of his mouth, watching him for a moment as he gasped for air. His lips were swollen and red, eyes heavy-lidded, and you reached down to stroke his jaw. He looked beautiful like this, all disheveled and lustful and used. 

“Get up,” you said, and he jumped to his feet, using the back of his sleeve to wipe away the spit on his mouth. “What do you say?” you brushed his hair out of his face before cupping it.

“Thank you,” he said, eyelashes fluttering shyly. You could see by the way his cheeks had flushed that he was thoroughly humiliated, but knowing Michael, it probably had made him rock hard.

“Take your clothes off and get on the bed,” you told him simply, folding your arms in front of you as you waited for him to strip. You watched him undress, mouth watering when he pulled down his boxers to expose his hardened length, leaking with precum; as much as you wanted to feel it inside you, or wrap your lips around the flushed tip, you’d have to ignore it- this was a punishment, after all.

He crawled onto the bed and laid on his stomach, his rounded ass on display for you as he looked over his shoulder and shot you a coy grin. You responded with a cold stare, before returning to your bag and retrieving a bottle of lube, which of course was essential for times like this.

You climbed onto the bed after him, parting his legs so you were behind him, the tip of your strap-on poking at his ass. He wiggled a bit, and you placed your palm on his lower back to keep him still. Then you put down the lube next to him and reached forward to spread his ass cheeks, fingernails digging into his soft flesh.

He whined, and you landed a smack on his cheek hard enough to leave a palm-shaped mark. You moved one hand downwards and ran your fingertips lightly over his entrance, causing him to shiver, porcelain skin dotted over with goosebumps. “Do your friends know you like to get fucked in the ass?” you asked him, circling your fingers around his hole teasingly. “That you like having your hole filled up while you get fucked into the mattress?”

He squirmed, and you slapped him again, the sound of your hand connecting with his skin crisp and loud. “Answer me, Michael.”

“N-no, they don’t know,” he whispered, and you brought two fingers to your lips, sucking them noisily.

“And why not? You had no problem lying to them about how desperate I was to suck on your neck,” you said calmly, dipping your wet fingers just barely inside him. He groaned and you stopped, tracing your fingers along his spine with mock-tenderness.

“B-because it’s- it’s embarrassing,” he said, his voice cracking. You pushed your fingers further inside him, reveling in how impossibly tight he was. You hadn’t fucked him like this in a while, so you knew you’d have to prep him with extra care tonight.

“But you love it so much,” you said, now knuckle deep inside him, and he rolled his hips back needily against you. “Even right now. You’re so desperate for me to push my fingers all the way in you, reach that spot that drives you crazy. Isn’t that right?”

He nodded frantically, his curls bouncing as he mumbled something incomprehensible. “So why would you be embarrassed?” you asked, spreading apart your fingers slightly to stretch him as you slid them deeper.

“B-because,” he let out a shaky sob as you completely filled him, parting your fingers further now and pumping them slowly.

“Because you don’t want them to know their manly supreme-to-be is really a needy little boy who wants to be fucked like a bitch?” The words were biting, lingering on the back of your tongue after they came out; you’d feel guilty if you didn’t already know how hard they were making him.

He only groaned, your pace increasing slowly but surely as you fucked him with your fingers. He was so tight, it almost worried you that your fingers would soon be replaced with a reasonably large dick, but you knew he could handle it. He loved the discomfort, the pain, and the way it melted seamlessly into the pleasure. He arched his back, rolling his ass against your hand to try and feel as much of you as possible. “Stay still,” you warned, and he returned his hips to rest against the mattress.

“Tell me how bad you wanna be fucked,” you said, twisting a strand of his hair from the nape of his neck around your free hand. “Beg for it like the bitch you are.”

He moaned at your words, his voice dropping an octave as your fingers thrusted down inside him harshly. You tugged his hair, bringing his head up off the pillow so you could hear his pleading clearly; this was the part that always excited you the most.

“P-please,” he said, raspy and raw. He balled up his fists around his sheets, a dip forming on his lower back as he lifted his ass up towards you. “I n-need it. Please.”

You hummed, scissoring your fingers apart for a third time in order to get him ready for what was to come. “I don’t think you deserve it.”

“Please, I’ll be a good boy, I promise,” he croaked, and you let go of his hair, sending his face plummeting back into the pillows and staining them with his tears.

“I don’t know, Michael,” you said pensively, holding him down while you increased the speed of your rhythm; he was crying now, muscular shoulders shaking, and for a moment you genuinely wondered what his friends would make of a scene like this. “You told me earlier that you were a good boy, but that was a lie.”

“(Y/n),” he begged, and abruptly you pulled your fingers out of him. You reached for the lube, unable to draw this out any longer. You hadn’t had him under you like this in so long.

“You don’t deserve this,” you said, squirting some of the clear substance into your palm and stroking it along your plastic member. You rubbed the rest around his entrance, which you could tell was already sore from the way he winced against your touch. “But I’m going to give it to you, only because you’re so fucking desperate for it.”

He panted as you rubbed the tip of the cock against his entrance, eliciting some sort of garbled noise from the back of his throat. He held up his hips for you, and you eased the member inside of him, going slowly to start out. You held onto his side firmly with one hand, the other traveling between the valleys of muscle and bone on either side of his spine. It took everything inside of you not to start fucking him senseless, but god, he looked fucking irresistible right now, face down and ass up all for you.

Pushing your hips down with moderate force, he let out a strangled scream as you slid deep inside him all at once, the lube having made the penetration far easier. His body twitched when the head of the cock brushed against his innermost spot, his knuckles turning white as they tightened and twisted around the sheets. You placed your other hand on his opposite side, grunting slightly as you pushed inside him, watching his ass clench greedily around the member. 

“H-harder,” he choked out, and you steadied your hips to a halt. You contemplated for a moment before landing your palm against his ass cheek, hard. 

“Quiet, unless I tell you otherwise,” you said, jerking your hips back a few inches and thrusting back inside him. He collapsed against the bed, no longer able to support his hips in the air, his body shaking pitifully. 

“Fuck,” he said, and you slapped him again, his skin hot and soft against your hand. His mind clearly wasn’t fully present at the moment, though, because seconds later, he followed up with another “harder”. 

“What did I just tell you?” you hissed, not expecting a reply; he was too far gone at this point to be obedient. You pulled him back against the cock roughly with each forward thrust, his body practically writhing as you fucked him. You could probably cum from the sight of Michael alone; it aroused you beyond belief to fuck him into a sobbing mess all while he begged for more.

“You take my cock so well,” you murmured for the second time that evening, and it was true; he hadn’t been fucked like this in so long, and yet he took it so graciously despite the discomfort he was likely experiencing. He bucked his ass backwards to meet your thrusts, and you couldn’t find it in you to scold him. 

Your thrusts weren’t too fast, but they were forceful, and with each push of your hips pressing him against the mattress, his whimpers grew louder and louder. Getting a good hold on him with one hand, you reached your other one to hold onto his curls, grunting as you increased your speed.

“P-please,” he breathed, and from the bit of his face you could see, it was apparent that his skin was streaked with dried tears. You smirked, entering him fully before grinding against his ass, making sure he felt every inch. He shivered, feeling the head of your strap-on push against his prostate, and you rocked yourself forward to apply further pressure. 

“Tell me how pathetic you are for lying to your friends,” you said, using his hair to lift him up further so you could hear him speak.

“I’m pathetic, s-so pathetic,” he cried, and you administered another hard, ruthless thrust into him. “God, harder.”

“I’m already fucking you hard, and you want more?” you said mockingly, complying to his requests and pounding into him so aggressively, you almost lost your balance. “You’re a greedy little boy, begging me to be fucked when you know you don’t deserve it.”

“It- it feels so- so- fuck.” You adjusted your position so your thrusts were angled downwards, a sure fire way of hitting the spot that would make him cum. You knew that after the way he’d behaved, he shouldn’t be allowed to, but it would be another level of cruel to leave him like this- you were nowhere near a saint, but some things were too much, even for you. 

“Who do you belong to?” you demanded, releasing his hair and letting him drop face-first into the pillow with a soft thud. He sniffled, turning his head to the side, squirming below you restlessly.

“Y-you, (y/n), I b-belong to- fuck,” he stuttered, and you began to fuck him sloppily, focusing on getting him to his climax, a bead of sweat traveling down your forehead as your heart raced from your vigorous movements. At this point, he was probably in some degree of pain as you pushed inside his tight hole, but you knew he craved it. His body was near limp below you, worn out from being used, and he could hardly manage to let out more than a few soft, shaky moans.

Your chest pressed against his back, which was glistening from the sweat coating every inch of his skin. You didn’t care; you loved it, loved how weak you made him. Jutting yourself down further, you felt him contract and shake; you bounced your hips slightly, keeping the cock in the same spot, knowing that this would cause him to unravel, melt into a puddle beneath you. 

He gasped, and that was it- you wished you could see his face as he came, witness his heavy-lidded blue eyes flutter shut as his perfect lips parted in ecstasy. But this was enough. Listening to his little sighs, too fatigued for anything stronger. 

He tensed, and then he shook almost violently, and then he was almost motionless, save for his heaving back. You kissed his shoulder, pulling the strap-on out of him slowly, so as not to hurt him. Gently you rolled him onto his back, running your fingers over his cheeks and wiping away the tears. He looked up at you with a dazed expression, opening his mouth as if he wanted to speak, but no words came out.

“I love you, Michael,” you told him truthfully, stroking his moist, disheveled hair. “But don’t pull that stupid shit again.” 

He tilted his head upwards, just barely enough to show you that he was nodding in agreement, tongue darting out to wet his dry lips. You pulled yourself off the bed, removing the strap-on from under your skirt as you began to undress and change into your pajamas. You considered lying down next to him and making yourself cum, but you were exhausted from the session and knew Michael repay you later on anyways.

Pulling on your sweatpants, you heard Michael roll onto his side. “(Y/n)?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.” 

It was genuine, whole-hearted. 

You smiled.


End file.
